Something Bastard
by Miyuki-ice-fox
Summary: Romano hated visiting other countries, but thanks to his brother he has no choice but to go to Russia. Written for the TheFantabulousPandemonium's birthday. One-shot.


Romano wished he could get away with hitting Felicano and not feel guilty afterwards. His younger brother tricked, yes sweet little Feli could be manipulative, him into going to Russia for a meeting with Ivan. 'Meeting' being used extremely loosely here, after all it was just two personified nations getting together in order to assure their bonds. Others did it all the time.

In fact, Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert would be 'assuring' their bonds this weekend. A shiver went down the Italian man's spine. Maybe Felicano didn't fully trick him. Romano hated when the trio got together after a long time apart. It meant that they'd turn into a pile of limbs and sex. It was disgusting.

The personified South Italy stared boredly out the airplane window. He was in for a long flight. Sure, the private jet would have allowed him to keep his handgun, if he could have found it or the sixty other guns at his house, but it didn't supply any tomatoes or dishes with the vegetable. Stupid Russian jet... Romano also highly doubted the bastard would have any fresh ones at his house either.

His auburn eyebrows furrowed in thought. He called everyone bastard and calling Ivan such a common version didn't sit well with him. Antonio was tomato bastard, Ludwig was potato bastard, Francis was perverted bastard, Gilbert was albino bastard, Arthur was scone bastard, but Ivan...he needed a word in front of bastard. A thoughtful pout morphed on Romano's face. He didn't like tacking on the nationality to bastard, it was uncreative.

"Vodka bastard..." Romano's face twisted into a sour expression. That didn't sound right. "Pipe bastard." That just sounded funny. "Fat bastard?" The Italian drummed his fingers on his knees. Was Ivan fat though? There was a reason he didn't call Alfred fat. Romano only tacked on words that were true.

Romano glanced at the roof of the jet. He would have to find something true about Ivan that worked well with bastard. He looked at his watch and sighed loudly. He at least had another three hours to think, or maybe take a siesta. The second option sounded much better.

* * *

><p>"That bastard!" Romano yelled as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel of his rental truck. Ivan wasn't at the airport to pick him up. He and Feli <span>always<span> picked up other nations at airports or ports if they knew they were coming ahead of time. It was good Italian hospitality!

Clearly, Ivan didn't have any Italian hospitality and the Russian hospitality sucked! He didn't care how good the Russian-Italian relations were! There was no excuse! Romano had never visited Russia beyond world meetings, even then he never drove or knew where to go. Now, he needed to hunt down the Russian and his only guide was a neatly folded, white sheet of paper with Feliciano's neat, curly, beautiful penmanship on it.

"Stupid maybe fat Russian..." Romano hissed as he glanced at the paper. He didn't know where this place was! It was likely in the middle of the woods with no marked road!

* * *

><p>Romano felt the muscle above his left eyes twitched as he parked the truck in the snow covered, unmarked, dirt driveway that was off a snow covered, unmarked, dirt road in the middle of the woods. Thick, lifeless trees surrounded the the clearing with massive pines peaking between their slumbering neighbors. A colossal wooden mansion stood proudly and firm in the center of this peaceful clearing, innocently unaware of the angry Italian as he jumped down from the truck as its front doors opened.<p>

Ivan Braginski's blond hair was a mess and only had one of his arms through his coat sleeves. He blinked at seeing Romano before smiling creepy, child-like smile. "Comrade Lovino!" The Italian flinched at his real name. Antonio teased him with that name and Feliciano was the only one he allowed to use his real name freely ever since Grandpa Rome passed away.

"Bastard! What's the big idea? Not picking me up at the airport! Did you forget with that vodka obsessed brain of yours?" Romano yelled, shoving his hands into his jacket's pockets. Childish giggles escaped Ivan as he approached the Italian man.

"Little Lovino is funny, Да? I was getting ready for you and lost track of the time. I am sorry, but now you are here!" The Russian said as he grabbed Romano's arm in a surprisingly soft grasp. South Italy's cheeks flushed in anger, both at being grabbed and called Little Lovino. He jerked his arm free, feeling a small bubble of guilt form at seeing hurt in Ivan's wide, violet eyes.

"Don't call me Little Lovino..." Romano muttered looking away as his cheeks darkened in embarrassment now. There was a moment of silence then Ivan gigled again.

"Okay Lovino!" great, he was still going to call him Lovino. Romano sighed and allowed the taller nation to grab his arm again. "Now I want to show you something!" The Italian rolled his amber eyes. Was Ivan going to show him the infamous pipe? Joy...

"If it's-" Romano's words died in his mouth as Ivan opened the front door into the kitchen where massive, fresh, beautiful tomatoes sat. The Italian walked towards them hypnotically, earning giggles from the personified nation of Russia.

"Nice, Да?" Ivan asked picking up one of the Anna Russian tomatoes. Romano nodded mutely while his amber eyes never left the pink-red vegetable. "Sister Ukraine sent them over." Romano glanced up at Ivan then back to the tomato.

"May I have a bite?" The personified nation of South Italy asked. Ivan smiled and nodded, holding out the tomato. Romano went to grab it but the blond refused to let go of it. the Italian looked at Ivan. "Ivan?" The Russian only giggled and held the vegetable closer to Romano's mouth.

A dark blush formed on the Italian's olive toned cheeks. Did Ivan really expect him to eat it from his hand? The look in the Russian's eyes told him yes. Part of him, the darker mafia side, was yelling at him that this was lowering himself if he ate out of Russia's hand like a mongrel, but it did look like a delectable tomato...

Romano leaned forwards and sank his teeth into the weak, red skin. He gasped as the juice exploded out of it. Immediately, he pulled back, red juice running down the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin. Romano brought a hand up to catch the juice, glaring weakly at the giggling Russian.

"Juicy?" Ivan asked leaning closer to him. The Italian blushed as a gloved hand cupped his chin, catching the rest of the juice. Before Romano could bite back a response the personified Russia leaned even closer and licked the juice from Romano's chin to the corner of his mouth.

"B-bastard!" Romano yelled, jerking himself free. A dark scarlet stood out across his cheeks, nose, and partly down his neck. "What's the big idea? You can't just...just LICK me!" Ivan only giggled and smiled at Romano.

"Lovino is cute, and I can not let you make a mess. I was helping you clean up, Да?" He said sweetly. Romano looked away and glared at the floor.

"Shut up!" His shouted even though his blush invaded the tips of his ears. Ivan only giggled more at the ever growing redness on the Italian's olive skin.

* * *

><p>A moist tongue ran up the inside of his thigh. The owner of that tongue blew cold air on the warm trail of saliva. The Italian man let out a desperate whine, earning a devious smirk from the paler man, a predatory gleam glossing his violet eyes.<p>

"I'm going to make you scream-"

Romano jumped violently as something shattered downstairs in the massive Russian house. The night that has settled amplified the sound. The personified South Italy stared at the darkness, the smut novel he swiped from Ludwig's collection laying open on the bed at a random page. What caused that noise?

The Italian hissed as his bare feet made contact with the cold floor. He hastily slipped on his black fuzzy slippers. Romano grabbed a white button up shirt that was three sizes too big, another thing he stole from Ludwig but he actually had a good reason for taking this item. His bag got lost at the airport in Germany and he wasn't about to wear Feliciano's shirts, not that his brother had a bad sense of style (he was ITALY after all) but his brother was much slimmer than him.

Nimble fingers quickly buttoned it up, leaving the top three under. He may sleep nude but he hated running around naked, unlike Feli. Romano dug around in his large suitcase and grinned as he pulled out a wooden baseball bat, those mafia days never did leave him. He normally would have brought his gun but he couldn't find any of them when he was packing. Romano blamed Feli, the other Italian planned this, it was so obvious!

Get Romano to Russia in order to spend more time with Ludwig. Make sure the Bad Ass/Friends/Trio were going to Spain. Ensure Romano doesn't take his guns and shoot Ivan but give him his bat because Russia is scary!

Yep...that sounded like Feliciano.

Romano cautiously stepped out of the guest room, ready to take the head off of any intruder. He strained his hearing to listen out for any sounds. A soft scuffing sound came from the kitchen downstairs. He was about one-third of the way down when a mass of fur shot up the stairs, knocking Romano off his feet.

His hand reached out for a railing, only to feel his heart in his throat when he grabbed air. A painful cry escaped the Italian's throat as his right foot landed on its side, carrying all his weight. Romano hoped that was the end but soon found himself hitting the steps hard until he reached the bottom. He sucked in a sharp breath as he lightly touched the bruising ankle.

"Lovino?" Romano looked behind him to see Ivan on the stairs, his foot on the baseball bat to stop it from rolling after the Italian. The Russian walked down, as fully clothed at night as he was in the day. The personified South Italy shivered as Ivan's cold hand barely touched the bruise. He hissed when Ivan pushed on it lightly.

"Bastard that hurts!" Romano snapped as he tried to pull away from the pain, and to hide the fact he only had a thin shirt on. Ivan smiled and released the Italian's foot, only to lean over the smaller man.

"It is good. Tat means it is not broken, just bruised. Now, why is comrade Lovino out of bed at this hour with a baseball bat?" There was a pause in which Ivan got closer, almost laying on top of Romano. "And with such little clothing?"

Romano's whole face turned red, as if Ivan had pulled on his curl. He looked away, glaring at the ground. "B-bastard..." He whispered weakly. Ivan giggled and pressed his forehead to Romano's, forcing him to look at him.

"Lovino is cute when he is angry, Да? You should not be angry though..." The Russian said as Romano frowned moodily. "Because I have not done anything...yet." When the Italian went to ask what he meant by that Ivan kissed him.

Romano froze. Ivan, RUSSIA, was kissing him...

"CHIGI!" South Italy yelled as he reared is head back and head-butted Ivan. THe pale blond held his forehead and stared at Romano is shock. "You don't just...KISS people!" The Italian continued to yell, refusing to meet Ivan's gaze.

"But we have good relations." Ivan stated in childish confusion.

"That doesn't mean you just kiss people! You have to be dating first!"

"Can we date?"

"No! I mean you have to...argh! You confuse me!" Ivan giggled and kissed Romano's forehead, earning a death glare from the Italian.

* * *

><p>"Lovino~!" Feliciano yelled as he ran into their shared house. Romano looked up from the dishes, blinking in surprise at the numerous flowers offered to him. He would have said that Ludwig was trying to get in his brother's pants when he saw the large sunflower in the center. "Someone sent you flowers~" The personified North Italy sang as he put the bundle in Romano's hands once he dried them. He fished out the card that was next to the sunflower.<p>

_Is it custom to send flowers to the person you want to date in Italy as well?_

His face turned dark red at the card. It had been two weeks since his stay at Russia's house and Ivan had sent over chocolates, flowers, more Anna Russian tomatoes, and numerous other things. It was like the Russian was courting him! Romano froze at that thought and glared at the flowers. Stupid bastard...all these gifts would NOT woo him!

"Lovi's in love~" Feliciano sang, earning a darker blush from his brother.

"S-shut up, Feli!"

"I'm sorry fratello! I didn't mean it you were just smiling that smile!"

"SHUT UP!"

"I'M SORRY!"

* * *

><p>It was late, even latter than when Romano normally staid up. He chewed on his lower lip as he toyed with his cell phone. He should call, but it was late... Where was his Italian blood? He should be treating this...relationship...like he would treat a lovely lady!<p>

Wait! Ivan was sending HIM stuff! Did this mean he was...

Romano hastily dialed the Russian's number and impatiently waited for him to pick up.

"Здра-"

"I AM **NOT** THE WOMAN IN THIS RELATIONSHIP AND TO PROVE IT WE'RE GOING TO DATE!" Romano yelled then hung up with an angry huff. He'd show Ivan! The Italian bowed his head, he just asked out Russia. Damn Feliciano...he must have planned this so HE asked out Ivan.

"Lovi?" The personified North Italy asked as he poked his head inside his brother's cracked door. A sly smile was on his face, having heard Romano's yelling.

"FELI!" Feliciano yelped as a pillow was chucked at him. "You manipulative little brother!" Romano yelled but made no move to chase after the fleeing steps of the Italian. The only time he did manipulate people it was for the good. Maybe he could give Ivan a chance...

But, he was not going to be the woman in it...no matter how much he liked getting spoiled!

* * *

><p><strong>Before you ask I will NOT continue this! This is a ONESHOT! It was written for an amazing friend of mine for her birthday. So I will not make this into a chapter-ed story.<strong>


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